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fiOne day I saw her go down to a water-hole
that both of our bands were using., and I slipped
away from our camp and went down, too. I
asked her who she was. She said she did not
know. She was captured in the massacre,, too.
She said that she was being raised in the chief's
family, and they watched her all the time; for the
chief was going to marry her when she was old
enough. She had red hair and was pretty good-
looking. I never had another chance to talk to
her. I do not know what became of her. That
is all I know about myself. They say that my
parents were killed in the massacre,, and one of the
Indian women snatched me up out of the mud and
saved me. But I wish I knew who my relatives

Years later I visited the Minnesota Massacre
Sioux, now living in refuge in Western Canada
on two reservations: the Standing Buffalo band
at Fort Qu'appelle, Saskatchewan; and the Akisa
band at Oak Lake, Manitoba. I remembered
this incident on the upper Missouri, and I asked
them what they knew about the white child they
had brought up from the massacre when they fled
into this country for refuge from the American
troops. I found that the woman who adopted
and raised the child was Mrs. Akisa, wife of
the chief.

Mrs* Akisa said that there was so much blood